Green Shoots
by enzymion
Summary: SPOILERS FOR EOT P2. Jack knows it's a goodbye as soon as he sees him...


**DISCLAIMER- **Yeah, don't own it. Also, spoilers for EOT P2. Enjoy...

Jack Harkness has said so many goodbyes in his long life.

He knows it's a goodbye as soon as he sees him. The bar is packed with members of every sentient life-form found on this side of the galaxy, joined together in the noble pursuit of getting hammered or, with a little luck, laid. It may as well be empty, though, when he looks up from the note delivered by the barman, and there he is. The Lonely God, The Oncoming Storm, he knows the names and the stories, hell, he had been there for some of them, so long ago now. He couldn't tell you how many years it had been, but surely it couldn't be as many as it felt in the moment he sees the Doctor again.

There's a flash of anger, white hot after the grief which is everything now, because he's here, because he's alive, because he wasn't there, _damn him. _If the Doctor had been there when the 456 had descended then everything would have been okay. He would have known what to do, if he'd just been there, he would have had a plan, like always, and he would have saved the day _and_ _everything would have been okay_. He wouldn't have had to watch as humanity turned into monsters, even as he sacrificedeverythingfor them. Hewouldn't have had to hold his lover as he died, knowing that it was his fault, and then do it all over again with his grandson. He wouldn't have had to go through hell and still carry on because there wasnothing else he_ could _do.

Just as the anger overcomes him in an instant, it fades again. Once, maybe, he had thought the Doctor perfect, but not any more. He's wonderful and magnificent and most definitely fantastic, but Jack had lived long enough now to realize that perfect was never as it seemed. And one didn't have to look hard to see past the perfect shine that surrounded the Timelord. His eyes were too old, filled with the sadness of someone who had lived too long, knew too much. Seen so much death, and so much destruction, and sure, he gets to carry on, but as both Jack and the Doctor knew far too well, that is the real curse.

And, as he looks across the bar, he sees something else in those eyes, something new, and yet horribly familiar. A desperation, almost, as if he's clinging to everything he sees, trying to memorize every detail, but there's a detachment to it all, and a sad sense of resignation behind his gaze. It doesn't take Jack long to work out where he's seen that expression before. It's the look of a dying man. It's a goodbye. It's another _damn goodbye_.

He'll see the Doctor again, he's sure of it. He may have a different face, but it'll still be the Doctor. Yet the realization still hurts, like saltwater in an open wound. There's a moment where he wonders how it happened, how he bought the time to come here (because from what he's seen of Timelord regenerations, they're quick and messy and definitely don't leave time for visiting bars), why he's here at all, and in it all he completely forgets about the scrap of paper on the table in front of him.

The Doctor prompts him to look at it with a nod, his eyes still steeped in the mournful resignation which would break Jack's heart, if it hadn't already been shattered by the life he had been forced to live. The Timelord watches him as Jack unfolds the paper, wondering what message could be important enough to bring him here. He looks down, and four words look back at him.

_His name is Alonso._

He glances up in confusion at the Doctor, but his only reply is another nod, this time over to his left. He follows it, and suddenly the bar isn't as empty any more. He doesn't know how the Doctor knows the guy's name, but he's young and handsome and just been given the thumbs up by the one person who's opinion Jack gives a damn about. Yet something stops him. It's the ache in his chest and the still too raw memory of a Welshman with a wicked smile. It's the fact that he knows he doesn't deserve what the Doctor's giving him, after everything he's done, all the pain he's caused. Jack's ready to fold the paper back up again, smile his thanks as Doctor leaves, and go back to his empty mission to leave his past behind him, another bar, another bed, another meaningless day-

Something inside him snaps.

He thought he'd lost everything, but no, there was still something more that the universe could rip away from him. Calling the Doctor reliable would be like a bad joke, but Jack thought he could at least depend on him to be somewhere, carrying on as he did. But now he realized how stupid he'd been, because the Doctor wasn't a fixed point in time, was he? That honour was reserved for him and him alone. The Doctor may regenerate, but regenerations don't last forever. How old was the Doctor now? How long until his time was up? How long was left until Jack would be truly alone, watching everything around him wither and die as he's forced to carry on, never aging, never dying, like some perverse fairytale? He didn't need to see into the future to know what was coming for him. It was inevitable, and watching the Doctor come to the end of this life was just another reminder of that undeniable fact.

To be faced with one's future is always scary, but the thought of facing that future? Now, that's terrifying. It was the Doctor himself who had taught Jack that he could be a hero, all those years ago. Since then he had tried his best to live up the Doctor's expectations, but that was the one thing he was always going to run from. His life was an endless game of cat and mouse between him and his fate. Every friend he made, every lover he had, every glittering night of drinking and dancing meant he could almost forget what was coming for him, however fleetingly. Of course, the morning must come, the friends grow old, the lovers die, but he knew then that he was never going to stop running, not while he still could.

So he turns back to his old friend. The Doctor gives him a lazy, one fingered salute as a farewell and Jack salutes back. It might just be a salute, but he tries to put everything he'll never get to say into it. Sure, it's a goodbye, but it's not just that. It's a promise that they _will _see each other again, even if it takes _another _hundred years. It's forgiveness for those hundred years of wishing and waiting, though the Doctor never had apologised for abandoning him, because all those lonely nights had ended in the creation of something _wonderful,_ and even if all that was left now was memories and rubble, it was still worth it. It's a reminder that this isn't the end, not yet, because as Jack looks into those sad and oh-so-scared eyes, he thinks that maybe the Doctor has forgotten that. More than that though, it's the one thing he needs the Doctor to know more than anything. The one message he wants to leave him with.

_It's been an honour._

As Jack watches his old friend leave, he hopes he understands. He hopes that his regeneration goes well, that it isn't too long until they see each other again. And this feeling of hope, of having something to look forward to, is so strange after the all-encompassing grief which was all he thought he had left. But now he knows there is something left, and he can feel it, the green shoots of something new peeking through the ash. He won't forget what he's lost, because he made a promise, and to keep it is all he can do now for a man to whom he owes so much more, but he'll keep on running. One day, maybe, Jack will give up and accept his fate, but until then he knows that he is never, _ever _going to stop running.

So he turns, and he prepares his patented thousand-watt smile, and he says one word.

"Alonso."

And it might just be one night, or it might, just possibly, be something more. But either way, it's going to be _fantastic. _


End file.
